The Vampire's Mistress
by Belief Among Unrest
Summary: A vampire will use whatever means to seduce the girl he desires.


This is based off a daydream, kind of. I built off that daydream a bit, and made something weird. I was just going to let it rot on my desktop, but I found a Vampire fanfiction category. Who knew?

I have a thing for names that start with 'L', I realize. Probably because I love L from Death Note. How much? Enough to have two L plushies, a Death Note CD, Ryuk's white feather, and L keychain, a beautiful "L" on my door, and, wait for it...MY OWN DEATH NOTE. :D Happiness.

Off track. Now read the seductive fanfic of vampires that I really hate the ending to.

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><p>Lillian could swear she heard something.<p>

Which wouldn't be so odd under normal circumstances; her friend- roommate Kristin was a rather loud insomniac who tromped around in the middle of the night doing things she often didn't want to know.

But Kristin was on a trip to France with her boyfriend, so Lillian was alone in their little two bedroom, one bathroom house. And she was paranoid by nature, so no sound was left unchecked when she was alone.

Slowly, she got out bed, picking up the baseball bat she kept just in case, and crept downstairs in her white nightdress, careful to be as silent as possible on the stairs.

Her house had been broken into once before, fortunately when she wasn't there, and she wasn't going to let it happen while she _was_. As Kristin would say, "protect the fortress!" She'd usually add something about all her mangas being in the house, but Lillian had learned to just roll her eyes and walk away when her friend went all _otaku_ on her.

Now, however, she was in charge of protecting their house, so she lifted the bat over her shoulder and stepped off the last step, peering into the kitchen.

No one.

She continued silently through the house, checking each room until every closet had been opened, every couch looked behind, and every corner evaluated.

She had just finished checking under the beds when she sighed, throwing the bat on the floor.

_Jeez, I'm paranoid,_ she thought, running a hand through her thick blonde hair. _I bet it was something stupid, like the fish Kristin keeps._

She yawned, stretching her arms over her head and closing her eyes. She really needed to stop being so on edge or she'd never sleep. She dropped her arms and opened her eyes, intent on going to bed and not getting up until the next afternoon.

It was then she saw the shadow leaning against her doorframe. She immediately stiffened in fear, lunging toward the baseball bat, but suddenly her was right in front of her, holding the bat carelessly in his hand.

She backed away in fear, but he just tossed the object behind him, the metal making a dull noise against the floor. She looked frantically around for something, anything that could be used as a weapon, but there was nothing.

She returned her gaze to the intruder, preparing to fight him, but the moonlight illuminated his features, and she froze.

The first thing that caught her eyes was his good looks. Lillian was by no means a shallow girl, but he was the epitome of beauty. He had shaggy black hair and slate gray eyes that reflected the moonlight through the open curtains by her bedside window, and was dressed entirely in black, giving him the feel of a shadow. He looked like he was smirking as the pale moonlight shone on his equally pale skin, and that's where she saw the second thing that caught her eyes:

Fangs.

She stared at his mouth for a long moment, seeing the white, sharp incisors but hardly believing it.

Only when he appeared right in front of her, not even moving but suddenly just _there_, fangs in a grinning mouth right in front of her eyes, she didn't have a choice but to believe it. There was a _vampire_ in her house, and by the deadly look in his eyes, this wasn't the _Twilight_ kind.

She stood frozen, paralyzed at the thought of such a creature even existing, much less being in her house, and by the thought that no matter what, yelling, struggling, pleading, and running would never save her.

The vampire reached out one clawed hand and trailed it from her jaw, down her neck to her collarbone. "She doesn't run," he said lowly. She almost flinched at his voice: silky and beautiful, it would have completely captivated her if her head wasn't in the right place.

He used the same hand to grasp her wrist, bringing it to his face. His lips and fangs brushed lightly over her pulse point, and she shivered, a cold feeling spreading over her body. "She doesn't fight," he said, dropping her wrist back to her side.

He circled her slowly, trailing his claws lightly over her neck until he stopped behind her, his fingers resting at the base of her neck. He lowered his head and whispered in her ear, his lips brushing her skin, "She doesn't scream."

Goosebumps rose on her skin, and she closed her eyes, trying hard to ignore the hand that was trailing down her arm, grabbing her hand and raising it to his cheek. "Yet she's afraid," he murmured into her palm.

What was he doing, violating her space like this? She said nothing, biting her lower lip, hard. She could feel him smirk against her hand. "What's your name?" he asked her.

She swallowed, and waited to make sure her voice wouldn't waver when she spoke. "Lillian," she said, and was relieved to find her voice steady.

"Lillian," he purred, releasing her hand to sweep her long blonde hair off her shoulder. "Such a pretty name. It matches your pretty face."

"And what's yours?" She asked, gaining some of her nerve back, prepared to ward him off if she thought he was aiming for what she thought he was aiming for: blood. Blood, the food of vampires. Blood, the thick liquid that coursed through her veins. Blood, what she needed to survive.

"Lucas," he said, trailing one finger up her throat to tilt her head back. She felt him move his head closer to her, and she panicked.

"Don't…" she squeaked quietly.

He stopped, lips hovering over her neck. "Don't…what?" He breathed, his strangely warm breath sweeping across her skin.

"Don't bite me," she said.

"I would never," he said in mock horror, not moving from where his lips almost touched her.

"I don't have good reasons," she said. "There's no great purpose for me to stay breathing, but I'm simply asking you not to, even if I have no reasons."

"She doesn't have reasons to live, yet she asks to keep her heart beating," he mused, his mouth coming to touch her skin lightly. "What an odd creature." His fingers moved to trace her throat once more, his claws dragging up and down over her neck; and, it may have been her imagination, but did he just kiss her?

She squeezed her eyes shut, trying not to feel herself in this intimate embrace, this intimate moment. "Do all vampires attempt to seduce their prey before devouring them?" she asked, somewhat harshly.

He laughed. "Not all of them," he told her. "But some find amusement in the way the victim squirms before death." He kissed her neck once more, before whispering, "Will you squirm?"

"I won't," she vowed. "I won't squirm and I won't beg for my life. I asked you for it but I won't plead for it."

"I know," he said simply, inhaling deeply, moving his face upward. "You smell so exotic," he told her, his nose now buried in her hair. She felt relief that his mouth was no longer touching her, no longer kissing her.

"Me, or my blood?" She asked curtly.

"Both," he told her, grabbing her wrist once more and bringing it to his nose, breathing in. "Although they smell strangely similar. It's something foreign, attractive, and completely irresistible."

"I won't let you bite me," she vowed quickly, sensing his blooming bloodlust.

"Oh?" he said, his mouth returning to her neck. "How so?"

"I-I don't know," she stuttered. "Force," she said at last.

He laughed, almost as if he were laughing at a child. He then released her, only to wrap his arms fully around her, rendering her arms useless. She struggled, but his strength was unearthly, and she could hardly move.

"Force?" he inquired, and she knew he saw smirking.

"I won't let you bite me," she whispered again.

He chuckled, pressing his mouth firmly against her neck. She could feel his fangs graze her skin through his parted lips, before he kissed her again, slowly, smiling wickedly. She inhaled sharply and tried to twist her neck away, but it was useless. His tongue darted out to taste her skin, and the blood that lingered underneath. She gasped, and then heard him laugh, the sound very dark.

"Don't—" she started.

His fangs sunk shallowly into her skin, and she winced. She could feel them moving deeper into her flesh with each passing second, and before she knew it her blood was in his mouth. The pain was sharp, and she could feel the blood leaving her body to where his teeth had penetrated. She tried hard to escape his deathly embrace, but his hold on her was so tight that she couldn't move.

It was awful, actually hearing her blood enter his mouth, hearing him swallow it, hearing him _swallow her blood_. She felt a warm line trickle down her neck and fought the urge to scream. If she was going to die, she was going to do it with dignity. This… this _creature_ would not own her, during her death. She would not give him the satisfaction of relishing her pain.

She closed her eyes, waiting for it to be over, so she could die.

Suddenly his fangs were gone, though, and she felt woozy, but alive. Her legs gave out, unable to support her anymore. He caught her like a damsel in distress, as if he wasn't the one who put her in this position.

"I'm alive," she forced out through the lightheadedness.

"Figure that one out on your own?" He said, licking her neck to get the blood that dripped down. She flinched at the closeness.

"You bit me," she said tiredly. "You drank my blood."

"Again, stating the obvious."

"Aren't you a gentleman? I asked you not to."

"Ah, that's where you're wrong," he said, suddenly scooping her into his arms bridal style. "You didn't tell me not to bite you. You told me to spare your life, and I did."

Her head lolled back into the crook of his arm. "You could be a politician. They always find a way to shrug off the blame."

"Blame for what?"

"The fact that I can barely move; you drank so much of my blood."

"That is because it was utterly too good to even consider stopping," he said, sitting on her bed with his back to the headboard, cradling her on his lap.

"You could have killed me," she accused, her head falling to his chest.

"Could have," he said, smirking. "Didn't."

She groaned unhappily. "Don't hold me so intimately," she said, gaining anger in her voice again.

"Why not?" he asked quietly in her ear, trailing the hand supporting her knees down her calf and up again, raising goosebumps on her skin.

"Stop it," she said, angrier now, pushing his hand away with the little force she could. He caught her hand easily, laying it over her heart, keeping his fingers pressed over hers.

"Why?" He was teasing her now.

"Because I'm a good Christian girl, and the beauty of a vampire isn't going to seduce me."

"Beauty?" He asked, nuzzling the side of her face. "You think I'm beautiful?"

"I—" she spluttered, unable to move her face away from his. He chuckled quietly. "Stop it," she said again.

He sighed, his warm breath and lips touching her cheek for a moment before they reluctantly disappeared. She turned her head to stare into his face. He smiled at her, and she felt heat bloom in her cheeks, her mind unable to shake his previously all-too-close gestures.

"You're eyes are rather stunning," he complimented suddenly. "When you stare at me so fearfully and innocently with those emerald eyes, I can't help but want to devour you. And I don't mean just your blood." She blushed scarlet, momentarily forgetting he was a vampire and only thinking of him as a boy who had just told her she was stunning.

He abruptly moved his eyes to stare longingly at her neck. "I really would like to take the rest," he said sorrowfully, and suddenly he was the vampire again, and she needed to live.

"But…" she ventured, hearing the reluctance in his voice and acting on it, feeling her strength beginning to come back as though her blood cells were rapidly multiplying.

"But," he sighed. "Like you said, I _am_ a gentleman. A lady, and a beautiful one at that, asked me to spare her life. So I shall."

"But…" she said again, knowing that wasn't all, trying to ignore the fact that he called her 'beautiful'.

"But I can't simply let you go," he said.

"You can't?" She almost squealed.

"You know what I am," he told her gravely. "And you've taken my mark."

"Not willingly!" she cried.

"It doesn't matter," he said, smiling cruelly. "It still marks you as mine."

She froze, terrified. "Yours?" she asked.

He grabbed her hand, pressing it against his un-beating heart. "Mine."

She became angry. "I am not yours," she said, snatching her hand back. "I don't belong to you, I'm not your property."

"You have my mark."

"That means nothing to me!" she cried.

"Well it means something to my kind," he told her. "It means we have a blood bond."

"A blood bond?" She asked, horrified.

"Your blood in me, my mark on you." She slapped the bite mark on her neck, concealing it as if it would make it disappear. At the awful look on her face, he said, "Don't worry, you won't turn into a vampire. That requires a steeper process. But you have an invisible tie in you, connecting us through blood."

She stiffened in fear.

"It's not so bad. It's more like…you're my pet now," he said, squeezing her tighter.

She scoffed, fear forgotten for anger, but was silent when he smiled, showing off his sharp incisors.

"Or you could be my mistress."

She froze, shocked, before scowling. "I would _never_ become your mistress."

"It's better than being my pet," he said casually. "A pet has to do what their master orders, but a mistress has freedom."

"I will be neither your pet or your mistress," she said harshly. "I am not a dog and I am not a whore. I will never do your bidding."

"You have my mark," he reminded her.

"And?" she snapped.

"And soon, not only will you have no choice but to follow me, you'll want to follow me."

"Never."

"But never mind that," he said, smoothing her hair affectionately, almost like she had never spoken. She scowled, batting his hand away. "It isn't up to you, in the end."

She gasped. "You're taking my freedom?"

"No," he said, appearing deep in thought. "But I am making this decision."

"Will I have a choice?"

He grinned, running his fingers over the bite mark on her neck. She gasped again, against her will, feeling a strange electric sensation coming from the mark when he touched it. "No," he told her. "Because your body has just made it for you."

"What do you mean?" She snapped.

He sighed. "Let me tell you a story."

She rolled her eyes. "I feel like any objections will fall on deaf ears."

He grinned at her, before dramatically clearing his throat. "Vampires need blood to survive, that's the obvious stuff that everyone knows. But for every vampire, there's someone out there whose blood tastes the sweetest, better than any other human's blood. They can spend centuries wandering, waiting to find the person whose blood sings to them the most. When they find that person, no other blood is good enough. That human is theirs for life. The link between them renders the human immortal. A pet. Or, for some, a mistress.

"I've been wandering a while too. For several hundred years, I think, not a very long time for my kind, and I've never found someone whose blood sings to me. But tonight," he smiled at her, almost affectionately, but in a more predatory manner, "I have. Mere chance, but who am I to question fate?"

She stared blankly at him. "You're wrong," she said at last.

"I'm not wrong."

"Yes you are!" she cried. "I'm not your singer, or whatever, I'm not _yours_."

As if to prove her wrong, he ran his fingers over the mark again, sending another electric sensation through Lillian's body.

"Stop it!" she yelled.

"Why?" he demanded. "Because it proves me right?"

"Because…because…"

"Because you don't want to be owned by a monster," he said, a bit harshly.

"Because I don't want to be _owned_," she said, angered.

"Do you need me to spell it out? If a vampire took one human to be theirs for the rest of their life, do you think that human would be miserable? Especially if they had a mark like that?"`

"That's not the point," she said, fighting to get out of his arms. "The point is I have a life, a normal life, not as a vampire's pet—mistress—singer—whatever. You're not supposed to exist, not in my life. You appear in my house, drink my blood, give me a mark that binds us through that blood, and tell me that suddenly I'm yours? That just doesn't happen."

"It does," he told her seriously. "Stop fighting me," he said when she continued to struggle. "You can't stop it now."

"I can!" she cried, pushing herself away.

In one fluid motion, he had flipped them over so she was pinned underneath him, his hands were pinning her wrists to either side of her head on the bed, and his tongue was running over the mark he had left on her neck.

She tried her best not to squirm, not to give him that power over her, but there was an enticing electric feeling spreading from where he licked the bite wound on her neck, so tantalizing and full of heat, that she couldn't be still where she was and was soon writhing underneath his body.

"Stop," she moaned, trying to command her hands to push him, but her limbs weren't doing what she commanded of them, and refused to let go. She almost cried over the level of control she had lost. "This isn't fair!" she yelled.

"Life isn't fair," he said, retracting his lips, but pushing her farther into the bed with his body, releasing her wrists to run them down her sides. She fidgeted, her arms like lead.

"You don't exist," she said desperately.

"I can prove that I do," he said lowly, his lips under her chin, forcing her head into the pillow. She didn't like how suggestive that statement was.

"No," she said. "Things like this just don't happen…"

"They do. They have and they will."

"This can't be real."

"I assure you, it is," he said, his hand running up her leg and over her hip, hiking the material of her dress up significantly.

"Please don't," she almost begged, afraid the fingers drawing patterns on her hipbone would find a less decent location.

"I won't," he murmured against her collar. "I'm a gentleman, remember?"

She laughed bitterly. "Bullshit."

She felt him smirk. "Trust me, darling, your virtue is safe for now."

"For now," she repeated, dread in her heart.

"Eventually, you'll give it to me."

"That'll be a cold day in hell."

"Pack some mittens, then," he whispered against her pulse point.

"I don't need to pack anything," she growled. "I'm not going anywhere."

Suddenly, he released her, sitting back, and she was afraid she had angered him severely by her constant refusal, but he just threw his head back and laughed. She felt cold all over at that sound.

Many years later, looking back on that night seemed like a distant memory to Lillian, all the refusal something ridiculous. Lucas had taken her easily that night, against her wishes, brought her away from her life, and forced her to follow him around the world. She had been hell-bent against it, but came to accept that she had become his pet, though he had continuously made advances on her.

It's hard to resist a vampire who has given you a mark that bonds you in more ways than one. Eventually she succumbed to being the vampire's mistress, and the rest of history was filled with…interesting experiences. Lucas never let her forget that night, but she knew how to put him in his place.

In a way, the predator had become the prey.

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><p>Hate the ending. Hate it. But I don't know what else to do with it.<p>

Well, read, rate, review, roll around, risk your life, rinse your mouth, (put a) ring on it. Do itt.


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